


To the Lonely Mountain Born(e)

by wildforce71



Series: Not what they Appear [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is learning, Bofur is deep, Gen, introspection ahoy, lots of talking, not much action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildforce71/pseuds/wildforce71
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his talk with Kili, Bilbo realises their leader may have more to him than meets the eye. Bofur shows him how to find it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Lonely Mountain Born(e)

**Author's Note:**

> Follow up to _fight as Long as we Leave_ , but all you really need to know is that Kili promised to help Bilbo understand some of those Dwarf customs that keep tripping him up.

Bilbo found himself watching the Princes after his talk with Kíli. He did his best to keep it subtle, trying not to be caught; occasionally Kíli caught his eye, grinning broadly or nodding solemnly, whichever the situation seemed to call for.

Bofur dropped to sit next to Bilbo one day by the campfire. It wasn't unusual; Bofur had gone out of his way to be friendly to Bilbo several times, the only one beside the Princes who'd made much effort. "What're you doing, Bilbo?"

"Just...enjoying not moving."

"Aye," Bofur agreed with a grin. "It's nice to rest." He glanced across the camp, at where Thorin was inspecting Fíli's swords. "Dwarves are a straight forward bunch as a rule, Bilbo. So I'll ask you something, and ask your forgiveness if I'm trespassing."

"All right," Bilbo agreed warily.

"I see you watching the lads, sometimes."

Bilbo blinked. "I watch all of you. I've never met Dwarves before. I'm curious."

"There's some of that," Bofur agreed. "But no. It's them, and them and Thorin. If you're looking for fun, Bilbo, a way to pass the time – there’s no harm in it, but it shouldn't be them."

Bilbo had to take a very deep breath before he could steady his tone enough to say "I am not looking for fun, Bofur."

Bofur studied him for a moment before nodding. "Aye. I believe that. Is it a serious thing, then, between Hobbits?"

"That's trespassing."

"Fair enough." They were silent for a moment before Bofur murmured, "Then why them?"

Bilbo blew out a breath, considering. "I suppose I'm curious."

"Curious?"

"I have many cousins. But no siblings, and no cousins near my age. And no uncle who was ever close. I'm curious about them."

"There are other brothers, other cousins here," Bofur pointed out. "I happen to be both."

"I know, but..." Bilbo winced as Thorin gestured angrily at something he'd found in Fíli's weapons. "I would think that being his nephews would allow them latitude. He's harder on them than anyone else."

"Aye," Bofur said slowly. "He is, in some ways. In others, no."

"How do you mean?"

Bofur sucked on his pipe for a moment. "Thorin is King under the Mountain, and Fíli is his heir. Kíli's third. So on some things, Thorin is very strict with them. Weapons, and training, leading. Things a king needs. He'll drive them till they drop on those."

"But?" Bilbo prompted.

"But when they drop, he'll pick them back up. He protects them, best he can on a journey like this one. It was for them he went to the forges of Men, you know, begging for jobs to support them. It near killed him and he did it without hesitation. He'll wake at their voice or their touch."

"And he wouldn't wake for you?"

Bofur grinned. "He might, if you could find one of us as would touch him when he slept. Thorin's a warrior born and bred, lad, and in lands he doesn't know surrounded by dangers he can't plan for. Wake him too fast, you pull back missing a hand, or worse."

Bilbo glanced over again. Thorin had finished whatever discussion they were having, and Fíli was standing, eyes down. Kíli was lurking nearby, clearly desperate to get to his brother, and Bilbo wasn't sure why he wasn't moving until he saw one of Fíli's hands behind his back, warning him off.

Thorin turned to stalk away, and as he did he reached out and gripped the back of Fíli's head. It was a brief touch, no more than a heartbeat, but it brought Fíli's head up and squared his shoulders, and he looked far happier as Thorin left and Kíli scrambled to his side.

"He loves them," Bofur said quietly.

"I didn't doubt it," Bilbo agreed. "It's just...unusual, to me."

"Why? Are Hobbits demonstrative?"

"Some." Bilbo swallowed sharply, trying not to think of empty halls and silent rooms in Bag End. He'd been trying not to think of going back there, after this was over. "But – as I say, no siblings, no cousins. It's unusual to me."

Bofur nodded, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, until Bilbo shifted. "Do the others think I'm looking for…fun?"

Bofur laughed, clapping his shoulder and climbing to his feet, wandering away. Bilbo eyed him warily, but Kíli and Fíli came to join him before he could go after him, and he had to let it drop then.

Now that he was looking, though, he could see the hundred little things Thorin did during each day. Kíli and Fíli tended to travel at the end of the group, and when Thorin turned to check on everyone his eyes went to them first. When they ate Thorin made sure they got their share, and when Kíli or Fíli were on watch Thorin was always awake, silent and watchful.

Bofur sat beside him again during a rest one day, offering him a pipe. Bilbo accepted it, taking several puffs before handing it back.

"It's all for them, you know."

Bilbo frowned for a moment before blinking. "Thorin...?"

"Aye. For all of us, really, but for them more than any."

Bilbo glanced at Fíli and Kíli, currently arguing over something in Kíli's pack. "So they can be Princes," he murmured.

"So they can be Dwarves," Bofur corrected him softly. "Thorin remembers Erebor, you see. He knows that it's not the same, what those boys have now. Not worse, you know, except to him. He wants to rebuild Erebor and bring them home."

"That's what Kíli said," Bilbo murmured. "To have somewhere where Dwarves can be Dwarves."

He glanced at Bofur, who nodded, unsurprised. "Aye. He'd know, I guess."

"I don't quite understand it," Bilbo admitted. "But I know how important it is to you. All of you. And I will do anything I can to help you."

"Even without understanding our ways?"

"Even without understanding. I can see enough." He glanced towards Thorin, standing on the edge of the camp, impatience clear in his stance. "Bofur?"

"Aye."

"Tell me if I trespass, but...if it were them, or the mission..."

"Ach. Go for the hard one," Bofur said softly. "I don't know, Bilbo. The boys would want the mission; you know that."

“The boys are boys. They don’t believe anything can possibly go wrong. Not really.”

“True enough,” Bofur allowed. “I don’t know. I pray to Mahal I never find out.”

“I shouldn’t have asked,” Bilbo agreed quickly. “Let’s forget about it.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, watching the fire. The group settled for the night and Bilbo glanced around, frowning. “Aren’t you on watch?”

“Not tonight.” Bofur glanced over at where Thorin was standing on the edge of camp, staring east.

“Then don’t you want to get some sleep?”

“They called him the King of Rags and Tatters.”

Bilbo followed his gaze, swallowing. “Thorin?”

“We left Erebor with what we were wearing. Some of us had jewels; a handful were holding tools. But Dale was gone, burned in the dragon’s rampage, and there was nowhere for us to go.” Bofur’s voice had gone almost sing-song and Bilbo listened intently. “We wandered for months, across plains and mountains, searching for a home. Somewhere to belong. Our jewels and fine clothes went to buy food for our dwarflings, to hire rooms in inns when we could, to buy medicine for them. Those who could worked in forges and crafthalls to earn coins for our young. And they died, they died of hunger and thirst, of cold and illness, of grief. Thror who was king wandered away, mind undone with grief and guilt. Thrain who was his heir stayed with his people. So it was Thorin who went among the Men to seek whatever scraps of work they would give. And when they learned who he was, they called him the King of Rags and Tatters. They gave him work and spat on him, paid him a fraction of what he was owed, knowing he could not risk retaliation.” Bofur fell silent, staring at the motionless Thorin. Bilbo kept his eyes down, carefully not paying them any attention.

“And he took the jobs,” Bofur said abruptly, sing-song tone gone. “And he did the work better than most, better than any Man could, and he kept us alive until we reached Ered Luin and could make a place for ourselves. And he is determined that Kíli and Fíli will be the equal of any Man they choose to deal with. They will never, not ever, have to scrape and grub for a living. That, Master Hobbit, is why we march on Erebor.”

Bilbo nodded quietly, not trusting himself to speak, and Bofur grinned. “And, of course, for riches and glory and the joy of our homeland. And because we are Dwarves. That’s what he’ll tell you if you ask him.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking him,” Bilbo assured him. “I’ve had enough of him looking down on for not knowing enough about Dwarf culture.”

“You’re not doing so badly. Only remember he won’t be so kind if you trespass.”

“Kíli’s already promised to help me.”

“Aye, he would. Well, if you can’t get at him, I’m hard to offend.”

Bilbo nodded. “Thank you.”

“You should both be sleeping,” Thorin said from the edge of camp, voice pitched just loudly enough for them to hear without disturbing anyone else. “It’s late and we travel on at first light.”

Bofur grinned. “You heard him, Bilbo. Time to sleep.”

“You go ahead. I’m just going to sit for a few minutes.”

“Don’t stay up too late.”

Bofur grinned, knocking out his pipe and picking his way across to his bedroll. Bilbo stayed where he was, half watching the fire burn down and mostly watching the King under the Mountain as he stared across the plains.


End file.
